


Opposites Attract

by pinkpompom



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Bickering, Crushes, Drunkenness, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, brief Tendo cameo, caring for each other, cry about it, lots of feelings, nothing but gratuitous fluff and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkpompom/pseuds/pinkpompom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann has been used to living in mostly solitude and professionalism, but something about the bouncing and charismatic personality of Newton has him wondering what it would be like if things were different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look After Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on this one! I just figured I'd share what I've managed to write so far.

There was something so genuine about Newton, something that created a puzzling aura of charisma that both drew Hermann in and repulsed him with his arrogance. He oozed a type of very-flawed charm, something uniquely imperfect and yet so enticing. His colourfully marked skin, permanently fixed with images of the beasts that he both worked so hard to destroy and yet idolized like an impassioned child, rolling and wrapping around his pale flesh to his neck and wrists, as far as he knew. His ruffled hair, sticking up every which way like he’d just tumbled out of bed, yet somehow was controlled into something that complimented his face and bouncing personality. His ridiculously thin ties that hung loosely around his neck with a pathetically tied knot, similarly reflective of his childish nature, and yet somehow both irritated and intrigued Hermann. 

His lab partner that he spent so much time in his day with was everything he was not, and while that should have aggravated him beyond belief, it really only stood to attract him in the most bizarre of ways. No matter how loud Newton cranked his music, how incessantly he spoke with juvenile enthusiasm about the kaiju, how late he arrived to the lab, how much of a mess he made with the kaiju guts and organs he so frequently flung around the lab, Hermann could never bring himself to hate him so purely. He was like an obnoxious old sweater you had received as a gift, but couldn’t bring yourself to throw out just because of who gave it to you, or how ridiculous the design was. No matter how much of a hate-filled façade Hermann wore around him, there was just no denying it; Newton was absolutely charming and he had already won Hermann’s cold, calculated heart from the very first few days they had become partners.

* * *

The early morning sun had just begun to rise over the Shatterdome, and Hermann was already awake and beginning his typical morning routine. He had always been a man of extreme habit in his personal life, and would he be damned if he didn’t wake up at exactly 6:30am for his cup of tea.  
His morning began with his slender frame leaning over the side of his bed, his bad leg stretched out in front of him carefully as he worked his fingers through the extensive amount of tense areas that had built up in his muscles over night. He groaned exasperatingly as he reached a point where no amount of kneading could fix the permanent aches in his leg.  
He reached for his cane hooked over the bars at the foot of his creaky bed and gradually brought himself into a hunched over standing pose, slowly raising his arms over his head as he stretched himself into as good of posture as he could manage before heading to the small dinky kitchen he shared with a few other colleagues and crew members on his floor.

Although his usual tea of choice was Earl Grey, on this particular morning he found that he no longer appeared to have any more of the familiar smelling small cotton envelopes, and had to resort to a tiny packet of Indian Assam he had tucked away in the back of the shared cupboard. He reached for his personal mug; a large and glossy cream coloured porcelain cup with a navy blue de masque pattern wrapping around the surface.

Hermann sighed as he flicked on the electric kettle and lowered himself into an old wooden chair by the small table that was wedged into the corner of the small kitchen space. He rubbed his eyes with balled up fingers, attempting to rid the last remains of the previous night’s sleep. He rested his head in his hands as he waited for the bubbling of the kettle to stop with the usual clicking sound, looking forward to his daily cup of tea, although not as much as he would if it was Earl Grey.

There was a soft clunking sound as the door to the kitchen creaked open. Hermann’s head jerked up out of his hands, part of him hoping it was Newton in his usual pyjamas (which often consisted of an old pair of worn out flannel pants and a faded band t-shirt), and part of him hoping it was someone else so he wouldn’t have to deal with Newton’s enthusiasm this early in the morning.

“Good morning Dr. Gottlieb,” one of the assistant lab crew members muttered politely as he shuffled into the room in a robe and slippers. “Would you like me to pour the kettle for you?”

Hermann nodded quietly before he rested his head back into his hands. Newton was going to be late to the lab today, he knew it.

* * *

“Hey! Sorry man! I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” Newton yelped apologetically as he skidded into the lab at full speed, his arms full of papers and books and his shirt half-buttoned. He slammed his work down onto his desk, quickly typing his login information into his computer before spinning around to face a rather peeved looking Hermann Gottlieb, standing behind his large oak desk with his arms crossed. 

His glasses slid down his nose with the connecting chain resting around the back of his neck, making him look more like an unimpressed school teacher more than a shared lab partner. “I really cannot say I am surprised at this point, Dr. Geiszler. I don’t expect any differently of you.” He raised an eyebrow judgementally, eyeing Newton’s exposed neck and chest tattoos peeking from behind the folds of his half-buttoned shirt.

“It’s not that late, come on Hermann!” Newton grimaced mockingly, spinning around again to check the time and noticing it was actually 10am, which was exceedingly later than he thought it was. “W-well, not as late as it could be…”

Hermann only adjusted his glasses before turning his back to Newton, hiding the small amount of blush that had begun creeping its way up his cheeks from staring at Newton’s tattoos for far too long. “Please just get to work then. And do remember to at least clothe yourself properly before entering the lab, Dr. Geiszler.”

Newton’s eyes widened as he glanced down at his semi-exposed chest, snapping quickly back up to catch a quick glimpse of the back of Hermann’s head. “Why, you like what you see, Gottlieb?” He snickered teasingly as he finished buttoning his shirt.

“Hardly…” Hermann muttered as he returned to his chalkboard, although he found himself unable to think of a witty retort to spit back at Newton. 

* * *

It’s beginning to grow later and later, and Hermann finds himself alone in the lab again, as per usual. He rubs his palms every so often as he sits in front of his computer, entering data and notes from the day’s work of calculations and equations, scrawling and erasing. His “old man glasses”, as Newton so fondly refers to them as, slide down his nose, every so often pressed back up to his eyes with a single bony finger.

He sighs as he notices the industrial sized clock on the wall now says it’s a quarter after 9, and the large workspace is left only in the remaining yellow-hued glow of the florescent lights hanging high from the ceiling. 

Hermann methodically finalizes his work for the night, always especially careful not to make any input errors, and shuts the computer off. He removes his glasses, allowing them to hang from their chain around his neck, and reaches for the dark wooden cane he needs to help him stand back up from his chair. 

As he stands up, he notices the other half of the lab, that is to say, Newton’s half of the lab. His desk is a clutter of half completed work papers and jot notes, complete with crude sketches of kaiju and what appeared to be possible next tattoos in the making. While the majority of his equipment and specimens were put away, there still remained a large trail of bioluminescent turquoise ooze on the stainless steel surfaces. 

‘An extreme biohazard, no doubt...’ Herman thought angrily as he paced around his desk and towards the door. Despite the fact the lab was a shared space, Newton’s half of the lab was exactly that, his half, and Hermann was not about to sink as low as to acting as his parent or even janitorial staff and clean any messes he had left behind. No, that would be something Newton would have to deal with himself in the morning.

* * *

Hermann settled himself into the corner seat of a communal table in the Shatterdome cafeteria, his eyes quickly scanning around the massive and echo-filled room for any signs of his irresponsible and previously vanished lab partner. The once deafeningly loud sounds of chatter and cutlery clinking from the other staff and crew had since dissolved, leaving only a few small parties and stragglers scattered throughout the tables.

Hermann often ate dinner alone; taking solace in the time and space it gave him from the hours he spent every day with Newton. Although, he sometimes craved his company, as eating alone was often quite dreary. 

To be truthful with himself, Hermann really did take a sort of amusement in Newton’s occasional outbursts while they were in the lab together. He certainly left something to be desired with his lack of cleanliness, but were it not for his frequently pleasant moods and quick-paced chit chat, Hermann would more than likely lose interest in coming back to the lab every day all together.

He looked down at his tray, pushing an assortment of steamed vegetables and grey meat around the plate with his fork, unsure of his appetite or his current mood.

* * *

It was now just after midnight, and Hermann could no longer be found in his lab, nor the cafeteria, or even roaming the hallways as he often did when he had trouble sleeping. He was sitting in his room; curled up in an old Victorian-style armchair, reading through old textbooks he had kept from college. The chair was made of a sturdy aged oak and cushioned in deep maroon velvet. The feet were carved like claws, and etched details ran wrapping around every inch of the exposed and polished wood. He had acquired it from a distant relative, and had made a point of keeping it with him no matter where he moved to, even if it meant cramming it into the tiny space of his Shatterdome bedroom. 

Hermann was dressed in his pyjamas, which consisted of a navy blue full button-down shirt and matching pants with white piping trim, a dark tartan robe tied snugly around his waist, and a pair of white slippers, which he managed to keep surprisingly clean despite having owned them for quite a while.

Just as Hermann began feeling sleep start to take over his eyes, he was startled by a rather loud thud against the metal of his door. He closed his book quickly and sat upright, leaning forward and straining to hear the muffled sounds of shuffling feet and groaning behind the door.

“Who’s there?” Hermann called out, speculating who could possibly be acting so recklessly at this time of night.

“Yoooouknow… who it iiis...” called back an all too familiar voice, his words slurred and heavy sounding through the thick metal door.

Hermann rose to his feet, snatching up his cane and quickly yanking open the door to reveal a disturbingly dishevelled Newton lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He had his usual leather jacket on, indicating he had been getting himself into trouble elsewhere, and he was soaked head to toe from the rain outside. His glasses had fallen to the floor beside his face, leaving him blind and pathetically fumbling around for the thick frames.

Hermann wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of the distinct scent of whisky wafting off Newton’s shirt, a small trickle of amber coloured liquid stained into the front of his white shirt. Newton was a complete and utter mess, and now he had fallen onto Hermann’s doorstep, most literally. ‘Just perfect…’ Hermann thought as he came to accept what was now to be his night. “What sort of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?” He sighed after a very long pause of observation and silence.

“I dinnit… I jus’ went outta have a few drinkssswith T-Tendo,” Newton slurred as he rolled himself over onto his back, attempting to rock himself upward much like a turtle. “He’s like, a reeeeaaaally good... good at drinking, y’know? Hecanjus… toss ‘em back… Oh aaaand the Russians were there! They’repretty… goodatittooy’know…”

Hermann rolled his eyes at the pathetic state of the man in front of him. “Well, while I’m sure that made for an exciting evening, you’re going to have to help me if you want to get up off the floor, as I don’t think I can support all of your weight on my own.” He shook his cane irritably and gave Newton a smack on the arm with the metal end of it.

Newton leaned forward onto his hands and knees, feeling the world around him spinning and blurring his vision as he tried his very best to push himself upright. Just as he thought he was strong enough to rise upward however, he felt a sudden lurch in the pit of his liquor-filled stomach and before he could control it, the familiar hot burn of alcohol was rising back up his throat and out onto the white slippers stood in front of him.

Hermann shrieked something much unlike like himself as he stumbled back from the liquid splashing onto the metal floor and staining his perfectly white slippers into a revolting mess of brown. “You… Newton--" He gasped, wide-eyed and absolutely shocked. 

“I’m sooo sorrrryyyy!” Newton yelped pitifully as he finally rose upward, wobbling under his own weight and leaning into the nearest wall to try and support himself, chuckling under his breath. “I-I’ll have them dry-cleaned!” He tried his best to sound genuine and apologetic, but for the most part he just found it funny. 

Hermann stepped backwards, kicking his now soiled slippers into a corner of his room and slipping his feet into his usual wing-tipped oxfords left near the door. “Perhaps you should come inside and allow me to help you clean yourself of that vile smell.”

“H-hey, are you invitingmeinto your room, Hermmyyy?” Newton hiccupped, making a gawking facial expression, although it really looked more like a vacantly slack-jawed stare. “Hermmy’s being nice to me… maybeIshould get drunk m-more often!” 

“I really would prefer if you refrained from using such a ridiculous name to refer to me.” Hermann rolled his eyes again and placed a hand on Newton’s back to encourage him into his room.

Newton’s eyes lit up as he stumbled into Hermann’s living quarters, admiring the cleanliness and vintage era styling in all of his furniture. “I’mnotgonnacallyou Docturrr Got-Gottlieb righ’ now… So I’ll stick to Hermannnnn…” He found his way to the chair in which Hermann was previously sitting and flopped down into it, his arms and legs splayed out at strange angles. He kicked off his shoes, revealing holes in his worn-out socks and his toes sticking out of them.

“Why am I not surprised by your inability to maintain your own clothing,” Hermann raised his eyebrows contemptuously. “You could at the very least remove your coat; it’s soaking wet and getting all over the upholstery.”

Newton struggled to remember how to work his arms, pulling them every which way in a useless attempt to slide his coat off. He grunted angrily and kicked his feet up, fussing with the zipper before ultimately giving up. He gave Hermann a defeated look and said nothing.

“You seriously are about as mature as a child,” Hermann tutted softly. He had started with a bad temper, but decided it would be better to just deal with Newton patiently. He leaned forward against his cane, reaching a hand out to unzip Newton’s coat for him and slid it off his shoulders. Newton just slumped forward, doing his best to help make Hermann’s job easier. Hermann hung the coat over a hook on the wall to let it dry, and leaned back down again. “Now, we need to get this filthy shirt off of you. Do you require my help?”

Newton shook his head earnestly, feeling a bit silly at this point. He reached for the buttons at the bottom of his shirt, but suddenly realized his vision wasn’t just impaired from the alcohol, but from the lack of glasses that are usually perched on his face. “Where’d my glasses go?!” Newton’s face snapped up, deadly serious and concerned. Even with this much alcohol in his system, he couldn’t relax when his glasses were missing.

“Ah, I believe they had fallen when you were in the hall…” Hermann quickly shuffled over to the door and bent over to grab the black-rimmed glasses off the floor. He handed them to Newton, who eagerly slammed them back over his eyes, sighing with relief as his vision bettered.

Hermann crouched in front of Newton carefully; bending his bad leg in the best way he could to avoid pain. He started unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom, being mindful to not touch the vomit and whisky mixed into the fabric. He watched as the full second shirt of colourful ink and lines became more visible from behind his shirt, forcing him to swallow a dry lump that seemed to be forming in this throat. He had always known Newton had an expansive amount of tattoos, had even seen them several times before, but never this close.

Hermann slowly stood up, finished unbuttoning the shirt, and slid the dirty fabric off his shoulders and the skinny tie off from around Newton’s neck. After hanging them along with Newton’s coat, he looked back to see a more timid and blushing version of Newton in the chair. His face was turned away and pink with blush, and his arms were crossed awkwardly around his torso, covering what he could of his now exposed chest.

“Are you cold?” Hermann asked politely, trying to ease Newton’s apparent discomfort. 

“Uh, yeah, a little…” Newton looked up quickly, but his eyes fell back down to his feet again. His head was swimming with blurry vision and straining to compose coherent sentences.

Hermann reached for a flannel blanket he had folded neatly at the foot of this bed and draped it around Newton's shoulders. His thin hands gentle and caring, snugly folding the thick fabric around Newton’s arms and wrapping the folds securely. He walked over to his nightstand and opened a small drawer to retrieve a bottle of painkillers. “I’m going to fetch you a large glass of water, as you probably are quite dehydrated. I’ll be back shortly.” 

Newton nodded quietly, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket tightly as his head sunk lower towards his chest. “You’rethebest… Hermann…” He muttered under his breath, hardly even audible had Hermann not been so close to him.

Hermann just smiled wearily before closing the door behind him on his way out.

Hermann walked to the kitchen, attempting to remain as quiet as possible so as to not wake any of the other crew, but the clicking sound of his cane echoed around the metal-lined hallway. Although he was almost certain Newton had already woken several people up with his entrance. 

He grabbed a tall clear glass and filled it to the top from the tap, then began walking back to his bedroom, trying his best to place his cane gently against the floor to generate less noise.

By the time Hermann had returned to his room, he found Newton had fallen into a fast sleep, his head lolling backwards over the edge of the chair and his mouth hanging open. Snoring softly, his arms were still tightly folded across himself, snuggled into the thick woollen blanket.

Hermann exhaled; somewhat relieved he no longer had to deal with Newton’s incoherent self. He removed Newton’s glasses and placed them with the glass of water and of painkillers on the desk beside the chair. He made his way over to his bed, allowing himself to fall heavily into the mattress, making a loud creaking sound under his weight.

Newton stirred slightly, but remained asleep. Hermann rubbed his eyes, stretched his neck, and turned off the small lamp on his nightstand. The night had finally come to an end, and Hermann just wanted to sleep.


	2. Hangovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to add to this one! I'm still writing more and all, this isn't it either!  
> I just kind of got stuck with where to go with this, and got other ideas for other fics and, well, I get distracted easily... Haha.

Hermann awoke with a jolt, remembering he had only just left Newton in his chair what couldn’t have been more than a couple hours ago. As his eyes met the plush velvet chair across from his bed, he realized it was empty, save for small white shape on the seat cushion. 

Hermann glanced at his clock, horridly realizing it was actually 9:34 AM. He sighed crossly, knowing that Newton must have tampered with his alarm. Where was Newt, anyway? He flicked the main light on with the switch just about his head, and realized the white shape was a small piece of crumpled paper, folded neatly and left for him to find. Shaking his head, he slowly leaned forward, shifting himself out from under the warm covers and into the stale, chilly air of the Shatterdome. His knees, back, hips, nearly everything cracked, as they usually do, as he reached forward for the cane left hung over the end of his bed.

Hermann’s bare feet touched the cold floor; searching for the soft slippers he always left waiting for him just at the side of his bed. He suddenly recalled the previous night’s events, especially the nauseating upheaval of Newton’s stomach contents onto said slippers. He sighed again, settling for just bare feet on the ice-cold steel floor. He shuffled across quickly, plucking up the piece of paper to find a scrawly, handwritten note from Newton. His handwriting was barely legible, but over the course of five years (has it really been that long?) of shared notes and research, Hermann learned how to decipher his primitive scratchings.

_Good morning Hermann ☺ Sorry about last night, I’ll keep out of your hair (you don’t have much hair actually though, so I’ll stay out of your sweater vest). Thanks for the chair, it was as comfy as I can remember, which isn’t much. I turned off your alarm for you, don’t worry about coming in late, I did yesterday anyway. Yeah so thanks a lot!_

_PS. You snore. A lot. I’m telling Tendo_

_PPS. I made you tea_

_PPPS. I took your slippers in a biohazard bag to have them dry cleaned, pretty sure I promised that._

Hermann glanced around the room quickly, not seeing a single mug or kettle anywhere in his quarters. Newton was either lying or forgot to do what he said surprisingly quickly after he wrote the note. He sighed a third time, shaking his head slightly, but not with the slightest bit of annoyance. Newt always meant well, and always seemed to make up for his shortcomings. As careless as he might be, he was actually pretty thoughtful, which in all honesty, put a bit of tightness around Hermann’s heart.

He was just so ridiculously endearing, it was absurd.

Hermann placed the note on his desk and headed for the creaky metal door that lead to his (honestly quite tiny) private washroom (not that he was ungrateful, he was more than relieved to not have to share a public shower with every other engineer and jaeger pilot on the floor). 

* * *

Hermann stood in front of the door to Newton’s room, rubbing his free hand on the back of his neck. He wanted to know Newton was fine, not too hungover or sick feeling, but he was also extremely shy and nervous about what state he might see him in. Last night’s display of… a complete lack of control and dignity, as well as much bared skin and slurred words, was something Hermann was not very much accustomed to. The strange feeling in his throat after seeing Newton’s tattoos was something he had a hard time explaining to even himself, but decided to simply chalk it up to the overall strangeness of the evening.

Hermann hesitated, then knocked softly, pausing a moment to see if he could hear any noises from behind the door. He knocked again slightly louder when there was silence, calling through the door “New-- Dr. Geiszler? Are you alright?” He frowned to himself at the lack of response. Knowing Newt, he was probably passed out again in his own bed, drooling all over his pillow. 

Hermann decided to just leave him there and head to the lab for a quiet day on his own. He’d had several of those before, as Newton’s disappearances for both explained and unexplained reasons were quite common. 

Just as he was approaching the lab, he heard the familiar sound of music muffled by the thick steel door. Hermann pushed open the door to find Newt, wearing matching grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt, humming away to the music at his dissection table. 

“Oh! Hey! Good afternoon, sleepyhead!” Newton chirped gleefully from behind a pile of kaiju entrails. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up in a stranger style than usual, the sides matted down awkwardly. Hermann noticed his latex gloved hands shaking slightly, still clutching the scalpel he was using.

“It is hardly 10:30 AM, Newton, that is not after noon.” Hermann frowned at Newt’s unkempt appearance.

“Pardon me for making a joke, Hermann.” Newton laughed to himself, idly wiping one of his gloves on the front of his (unsurprisingly already filthy) sweatshirt.

“Newton…” Hermann started, unsure of where to begin with the memories of last night’s events.

“Oh, hey, before you finish that thought, I left a pot of tea on your desk there, as promised.” He nudged an elbow in the direction of Hermann’s side of the lab, referencing a large black pot sitting on a cork headpad. It appeared to still be steaming, even. “You probably thought I was lying or something didn’t you? Well, assuming you found my note. You found my note, right?” Newton was bouncing on his heels at this point, his scalpel flying dangerously around in his hand.

“Perhaps it would be wise to put the scalpel down before you cut yourself.” Hermann winced at the thought of it cutting through his gloves. “And yes, I read your note. I was about to ask about last night. I’m not sure what you remember, but it was rather…”

“Hilarious?”

“Certainly not the word I was searching for. In any case, I am concerned about your well-being. Have you hydrated yourself properly? Have you taken any sort of medication? Have you taken your regular medication?” Hermann walked closer to Newton’s work space and noticed a rather large pot of coffee that was nearly completely empty, and a large beige ceramic mug with trickles of the dark liquid running down the side.

“Er, yeah, nothing a little coffee can’t fix!” Newt practically buzzed, glancing down at the pot and back up at Hermann. “Or… a lot….”

“Coffee is not sufficient hydration, Dr. Geiszler, I’m sure you of all people are more than aware of that. And your medication, you did not answer me about that.” Hermann narrowed his eyes, unwilling to let go of that particular issue.

“Uh, yeah, no, I um, I forgot to this morning. But I have some right here in my desk and I’ll get it right now, okay, how about that? It’s fine, I just kinda forgot. I’m fine anyway. It’s fine…” Newton babbled continuously as he scrambled to rip his gloves off and fumble around in his desk drawer for the small orange pill bottle he kept. His grasp was shaking, causing the small pills to rattle around in the bottle quite violently, and making the cap rather difficult to remove.

Hermann took the bottle from Newton’s hand and opened it himself, placing two small blue and white pills in his shaking palm. Newton gulped both down with a swig of coffee and smiled, closed mouthed and wide. 

“See? There we go, all fine. You’re good at reminding me, Hermm, but I don’t need it all the time. Anyway, yeah, thanks for the chair to sleep in last night! I don’t remember much, but I do remember the blanket-- oh yeah and thanks for that too! That’s a warm blanket; I maybe have to steal that from you. Oh and sorry about your slippers, I had those taken care of, don’t you worry! I don’t really remember what I did to them, but it was clearly really gross and I wasn’t gonna just leave you with a pair of nasty--“

“Newt.”

“--Huh?”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself.” Hermann attempted to ease his incoherent rambling by smiling calmly at him before pacing over to his own desk to pour himself a cup of tea. It smelled of Earl Grey, and he was so pleasantly surprised he had to glance back over at Newton to smile at him for it. However, all he saw was Newt slumped in his chair, his face pressed harshly into his hand with his glasses pushed up his face, and his sweatshirt bunching softly around his cheeks.

“Newton, you may go lie down on the sofa, I don’t want you falling asleep at the specimen table.” Hermann raised his voice slightly, startling Newton awake, although he had only just turned his back for a few moments.

“Er, yeah, uh, would that be okay? That sounds kinda nice right now…” Newt stood up slowly, groggily shuffling over to the old and worn out couch at the far end of the lab.

A few minutes later, Hermann looked up from the beginnings of his work for the day to see Newton sprawled out across the entire couch. He was using Hermann’s oversized parka as a sort of blanket, and had his head nuzzled into the soft fur lining of the hood with his glasses missing. His breathing was slow and deep, with small bouts of sniffling.

Hermann smiled to himself again, unsure of what to make of the warm and tight feeling that seemed to be settling into his stomach.


	3. Something Sweet

Hermann left the lab around 2:30 PM, leaving Newton still unconscious on the sofa, to get food from the mess hall for a quick lunch. He had let him use his parka as a blanket, if only to not bother himself with waking Newt up. Or that’s what he would tell him if he asked, anyway. It’s not as though he thought Newton looked cute all snuggled up in Hermann’s possessions, no, that wasn’t the reason at all. Or that he just liked the sight of Newt sleeping? Nonsense, it couldn’t be that either. Newt slept like an impetuous child, tossing his limbs around frequently and sniffling like an infant. But he’d be damned if his face didn’t look endearing in such a state of contentedness. Dreamy, even.

No, definitely not “dreamy”. Where did he even get that word, that’s preposterous, that doesn’t even make the slightest bit of sense.

Hermann cleared his head as he worked his way to the mess hall, passing several engineers and cooking staff on his way. Lunch was pretty much finished being served, and he would have been there sooner, but something kept him glued to his chair for much longer than he had planned to, though he couldn’t exactly say what. Hermann hurriedly snuck into the kitchen, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket and stuffing it with a couple apples, some pre-packed sandwiches (they looked slightly unappetizing at this point, but he didn’t have much choice), some loose tea packets, and a water bottle for Newt. He snuck out again just as quickly, shuffling through the halls, avoiding touching any of the dirty looking engineers in the halls.

As Hermann entered the room, he closed the door behind him softly, careful to not disturb Newton’s sleep. Why did he do that? Newt’s been out for about three and a half hours, and it’s not as if he’s ill, he did the damage to himself. Hermann huffed to himself, reopening the door and then releasing it behind him as he walked away, allowing it to shut itself with a loud bang.

Newt jolted upright, the parka sliding from his chest and onto the floor. He spun around, eyes meeting Hermann’s as he walked across the room nonchalantly (or as much as he could manage). Newton noticed the bag hung over Hermann’s elbow and raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. 

“I see you have awoken, Dr. Geiszler.” Hermann chided, setting the bag down on his desk.

Newt sat forward rubbing his eyes, and removed his glasses from the front pocket pouch of his sweatshirt. “What’s in the bag?” He mumbled as he groggily attempted to smooth out his hair. Hermann even found his vanity endearing, as if he was worried what Hermann thought of his appearance.

“Lunch.” Hermann stated very matter-of-factly before removing both sandwiches and placing them on the surface. “You probably haven’t eaten anything since you woke up earlier this morning, correct?”

Newton smirked, rolling his eyes slightly. “Yeah, yeah, but I had enough coffee for like, five meals.” He walked over to Hermann’s desk, picking up one of the packaged sandwiches and inspecting it skeptically. “What’s even on these? Is that like, molasses or some shit in there?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue, Newton.” Hermann looked just as skeptical, but decided they were worth pilfering anyhow. “I also managed to find some apples, and I brought you water to properly hydrate yourself, considering you seem incapable of that yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, thanks a lot Hermann.” Newt did his best to look unimpressed, but he was really quite thankful for the thought, as well as all the food he’d managed to find for them. 

It was more than common for them to miss proper dining times and end up having to either steal from the kitchen (which Newt had only been caught doing once! It’s not like Hermann would be any better at it, anyway…), or attempt to try and form their own meals, which usually consisted of ancient cup noodles stashed inside Newton’s desk and some large cups of tea from Hermann.

“No, but seriously, thanks a lot. This is really nice of you, I mean, all this food. And the chair. And helping me with the bottle. And uh, yeah, you get it. Thanks.” Newt smiled weakly, feeling slightly embarrassed at how badly he seemed to be managing his hangover. He’d done this more than enough times before, why’d he seem so bad at it this time?

Oh yeah, he hadn’t gotten drunk in like… what, almost a year? Too busy. Too many kaiju attacks. Oh well.

“Yes well, it’s not a problem.” Hermann settled into his chair, unwrapping the sandwich carefully. “We both needed something to… sustain ourselves for the next few hours.” He eyed a half of the sandwich before tentatively taking a bite, grimacing at the bizarre flavour.

“That bad, huh?” Newt said chuckling. “I’m not even sure those are safe to eat at all. Do you have any idea how old they might be?”

Hermann shook his head before giving up on the unappetizing sandwich and settling on just the apple and some tea. “I meant to ask you earlier, Newton, what the cause was for your sudden intoxicated appearance? On the threshold of my living quarters, of all places.”

Newt only shrugged, taking a bite of his own apple and looking up to the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his worn out face. “Guess I figured you’d be the only one willing to help me like that.” And without giving Hermann the slightest bit of time to respond to that, Newton bolted from his seat and skidded to the door. “I’ll go grab some noodles man, don’t worry!” He may as well have left a cloud of dust behind, he was so animated. 

Hermann sometimes found himself questioning how someone like Newt even existed outside of children’s cartoons.

* * *  


About a week passed, and behaviour inside and out of the lab seemed to be as normal as it usually was (as much as shouting matches across the lab floor and erratic sleeping patterns could be). It was late, 3 AM actually, and Hermann had only just decided it was as good a time as any to finally go to sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up at 6 AM like usual. Maybe tomorrow was an acceptable day to sleep in, at least until 9.

As Hermann approached his room, he nearly stumbled over something sitting directly outside his door. He looked down, quickly regaining balance with the help of his cane, and reached for a small brown object on the floor.

It was a decent sized parcel, about the size of a small laptop, except deeper. It was wrapped in brown paper with a red silk ribbon tied neatly around it (who could actually find ribbon like that nowadays?) with the words “To Dr. H. Gottlieb” printed in thick black marker on the front. He felt a weight inside, not quite solid feeling, and was tempted to shake it, but worried about breaking (or setting off) whatever was inside. Hermann frowned to himself, unsure of who would leave such a gift addressed to him, and just sitting outside his door like that? It was odd, to say the least. He considered Newton, trying to play some sort of cruel prank on him, but that seemed unlikely. 

He entered his room, closing the door behind him and settling into his favourite red velvet Victorian armchair before holding the package out in front of him and contemplating it slightly longer. What a strange thing to receive, but he supposed it was worth finding out what was inside. He lifted the ribbon carefully, pulling a loose end to let it untie itself, then ripped the brown paper from a corner, carefully pulling down the side in a straight line and forming a sort of open slot to extract whatever the contents were from. He grabbed the edge of a small white, thin cardboard box from inside and removed it, noticing a small piece of yellow paper folded and taped to the top. Holding it carefully, he decided to lift the top lid before reading the note, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

Inside was, well, extremely surprising to say the least. Six immaculate, near flawless looking cupcakes, all topped with perfect swirls of chocolate frosting and red sprinkles, sat waiting for him inside the box. They were almost picturesque, like something out of a cookbook or a home living magazine. Hermann carefully pressed a finger into the frosting of one, licking it off the end of his finger to be sure it wasn’t secretly something disgusting. And it wasn’t. It was… astoundingly delicious. Rich and smooth and unlike anything he’s ever tasted in a depressingly long time. After K-day, quality luxury foods such as desserts and sweets were impossible to come by, if you didn’t consider a Twinkie to be a “quality luxury food”.

Hermann suddenly recalled the note taped to the top, plucking a cupcake from the box before closing the lid again and removing the note with his other hand. 

_To Hermann_

_I figured I wanted to thank you properly, something better than just saying ‘thank you’ and passing out on the couch. I’m pretty sure you like chocolate, right? I hope so, I put a lot in those._

_Newt_

Hermann blinked, a smile pulling up his cheeks before he realized it. Newton… actually got him chocolate cupcakes just to say ‘thank you’ for not letting him pass out on the hallway floor? He felt himself almost blushing, his stomach tightening and feeling quite odd suddenly.

Newton. The most destructive, callous, charming, kaiju-obsessed, sweet, erratic man he’s ever met. 

Sweet? Since when did Newt become sweet to Hermann.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have something of a soft spot for sweet tooth Hermann and baking-talented Newt. *sigh*


	4. He Says, He Says

Hermann woke up at 9 AM exactly, his alarm beeping loudly near his ear and his troublesome leg cramping badly. He rolled over, looking at the white box left open on his desk. He had already managed to eat three of the six cupcakes in one night, and it took everything he had to not polish off the whole box. Hermann had a sweet tooth; that was for sure. He tried his best to keep that a secret from most of his colleagues, if not all of them, yet somehow Newton had figured it out. 

Well, it wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. He found Hermann’s small, secret stash of white chocolate in his desk drawer when rummaging (where he shouldn’t have been, the invasive prick) to find pens. He had teased him about it, but not nearly as badly as he had about other things. Newt seemed to find it “absolutely adorable”, as he put it, comparing Hermann to a child stealing cookies from the jar in the kitchen.

“That’s ridiculous, I’m not ‘stealing’ anything, and I’m certainly allowed to enjoy the odd sweet every now and then.”

“Whatever you say Hermm, it’s still pretty cute.”

Hermann only rolled his eyes to that remark; he was hardly ‘cute’.  
Maybe Newton was, though.

* * *

Newton was working away in the lab at a busy pace, humming to the loud blasting tunes of of various Queen songs, as well as a few Metallica songs that Hermann hardly approved of; at least Queen was melodic.

Newt hardly noticed Hermann as he shuffled into the lab, almost as if he was avoiding being noticed, which he sort of was. Not to be sneaky, but because he was sort of at a lack for words in which to express his gratitude to Newton for the gift. Was he to thank him? The cupcakes were a ‘thank you’ present after all, it seems sort of strange to continue this endless back and forth of ‘thank you’.

But he did want to thank him. He really, really did. It meant so much more than just receiving a box of treats, it was the fact that Newt had gone out of his way to find them just for Hermann. He felt… loved? Appreciated, anyway. It was a sentiment he wasn’t often used to receiving, not that he never had, but more so in smaller, less personal ways.

Newt was so… not small, in any way (except for maybe his height, which Hermann also found himself rather embarrassingly fond of), in anything he did. He was loud and explosive and yet warm and caring in so many surprising ways and--

“Hermann?”

He jumped in his chair, not realizing how lost in thought he was.

“I never heard you come in, man, should’ve said something.” Newton was smiling, bright and shining like he never ran out of whatever fuelled him. He was in his usual clothes instead of the sweats he wore the previous week (which were actually sort of appealing, in a completely unprofessional way), but had opted for a light blue button-down shirt instead of the usual white. 

“Er, yes, apologies, I don’t think you would have heard me over that racket anyhow.” Hermann tried his best to appear normal, though he was internally sorting through his mind for the right way to bring the gift up.

“Oh, yeah sorry I guess I wouldn’t have. Well, whatever, I’m leaving soon anyway so you’ll have the place to yourself.”

“Leaving?” Hermann asked, his internal panic leaking through his attempted normal, calm tone.

“Yeah, been here all night, was working on something and didn’t exactly want to stop halfway through, y’know how stuff like that is. I thought I’d be done before…” Newt glanced at the clock briefly, “9:45? Really? Damn, didn’t think I was here that long. You’re later than usual, Hermm!” He poked a finger at the air towards Hermann’s desk, looking smug with himself.

Hermann shook his head looking miffed. “I went to bed late as you’ll recall, so I don’t think it matters as much.” He decided now was as good a time as any to ask about it, or before Newt left the lab for the day anyway. “Newt, you… left a sort of gift for me… outside my door. Last night. I found it on my way to bed and… I was wondering where you even found such things?” He grimaced, unsure if asking such a thing was considered rude or not. 

“Found?” Newt laughed, wiping his scalpel and other tools clean as he spoke. “I didn’t find those Hermann, I made them. I figured you could use something sweet, much unlike yourself.” Newt cast a mocking grin over his shoulder.

“Y-you what?” Hermann was absolutely baffled. Newton baking? “How on earth did you learn that? There is no possible way you managed to create those yourself, they were--“

“Delicious?” Newton walked across the room, arms crossed across his chest. “Aw, you really liked them? I’m glad! I was hoping you liked chocolate! Well, I sort of already knew you did, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like those. You being so picky about everything else and all.” 

Hermann frowned, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t often he was left speechless. Even when Newt hurled insult after insult at him, he always managed to find something clever to say in response. 

“You don’t have to stress yourself out over it, I was just trying to do something nice for you. It’s not a big deal, seriously dude.” Newt stood close to Hermann, his hands resting on his hips. He shrugged nonchalantly, a small smile still resting on his lips. “Man, I’m tired, I should seriously get some sleep in while I still can.” He turned away from Hermann, leaving him sitting there still searching desperately for something to say.

“Th-thank you!” Hermann blurted in a moment of impulse as Newton walked away from him. “Thank you… so much. I genuinely appreciate your effort to… bake me something. They were delicious… impressively so.”

Newt stopped in his tracks, listening to the sound of Hermann rising out of his chair to meet him in the middle of the lab, his cane clicking loudly on the steel floor ‘til it stopped a bit behind him.

“Newt, you are… a good friend. Indeed, despite your childish behaviour often displayed here, you still are a good friend.” He was blushing at this point, baffled by the words coming out of his own mouth. Friend? Was that what Newton was to him? Did he want to be friends with Hermann, or did he just feel bad about the one drunken night he relied on Hermann to deal with him? 

Newt spun around patting Hermann on the shoulder a little too roughly for his liking. “Dude, don’t worry about it, I’d do it any time. Baking’s fun!” He beamed, his smile brighter than anything in the dingy lab, and left Hermann at a loss for words again before heading back towards the door to leave. 

“How many did you eat, anyway?” Newton called from the hallway

“Er… three.” Hermann admitted, calling back and slightly embarrassed at his lack of self-control. He heard Newt laughing, the sound fading down the steel hallway.

Hermann liked Newt’s laugh, it was warm and seemed to resound through his chest when he was near.

* * *

Working alone in the lab was an unusual feeling, Hermann thought. He was used to having something to be bothered by, someone to bicker with, and having to drown out the sound of one-sided chatter and annoying music. He found he never quite worked as well alone anymore as when he shared the space with Newt, which was a strange phenomenon for sure. How his usual working habits had changed so drastically from just one person’s influence was almost insulting, and yet he didn’t feel angry by it.

After what felt like an eternity of silence (Really only about seven hours, which was still quite a bit of time alone), Hermann decided to get himself dinner from the mess hall actually on time, while it was still being served hot. Or should he get some for Newton, too? He had been working all night, and he had baked him those cupcakes, which deserved at least a small favour in return. He agreed with himself to bring dinner to Newton as well, even though he was quite sure he would feel foolish for doing so afterward.

Hermann walked into the mess hall, looking around at the crowded space and filled tables, each divided into the usual separate cliques of Shatterdome staff; engineers, technical staff, commanding ranks, and the jaeger pilot couples (the Kaidanovsky’s looked particularly energetic today, holding a loud conversation in Russian that seemed to stick out from the rest of the general chatter noises). He reached the serving counter, discovering todays meal was something… foreign looking, noodles, possibly spicy, and he knew Newton would like that much more than him. 

“Hey buddy!” came a familiar voice, paired with a heavy pat on the back. “Looking for something more your taste for dinner?” Tendo Choi smiled at Hermann brightly, his bowtie a bit crooked but his hair still immaculate.

Hermann was mildly startled, but found himself always rather pleased with Tendo’s charismatic presence. “Hello Mr. Choi. Yes, I’m not… entirely sure what to make of the dinner choices that are here tonight, but I’m sure Dr. Geiszler will have no quarrel with it.”

“Oh, yeah, pretty sure this is like his favourite here. Where is ol’ Newt, anyway?” Tendo glanced around, looking for tell-tale signs of Hermann’s partner (which usually included loud and excitable conversation at a slightly abnormal volume).

“He is sleeping, the last I knew of.” Hermann sighed audibly, doing his best to appear aggravated with Newton’s unusual sleeping habits. 

“Sleeping, huh?” Tendo smirked like he knew a secret, which, of course he didn’t. What sort of secret could he possibly know? It’s not as if he could read Hermann’s thoughts. “What a good buddy you are, bringing your weary friend food!”

“A good friend… hardly.” Hermann muttered to himself. As he looked over the trays of brown-tinted noodles again, he suddenly felt an urge to ask Tendo about the night Newton had so gracefully wound up in front of his door. “Mr. Choi,” He started carefully, not wanting to appear as if he was too concerned about the matter. “One night last week, Newton appeared at the door of my quarters in a rather… offensive state. He was thoroughly intoxicated, and mentioned your name at some point, I believe he had originally gone out to drink with you. I--“

Before Hermann could finish his thought, Tendo interrupted him with the most knowing-smirk he could possible have on his face, and that was saying a lot considering the man was always in everyone else’s gossip. “Yeah I remember that night well. Newt is such a lightweight, he didn’t really drink that much but he ended up a lot worse than me! He wouldn’t stop nattering about you, Hermann this, Gottlieb that, it seemed like you were all he could think about!”

Hermann, for the third time today, found himself at a loss for words. Why was Newton thinking so heavily of him when he was out drinking with Tendo?

“Figured you might like to know that. Around the end of the night I told him, if he was so in love with you, he should go see you himself! He of course insisted he isn’t in love, yadda yadda, but he went and did it anyway!” Tendo chuckled to himself. “Not to mention how much effort he put into those little cakes he made just for you to say sorry about it! He made such a mess, all covered in flour and all that. He’s such a softy, honestly, I don’t know how that man is still single.”

“I can think of a few possible reasons…” Hermann muttered. It was almost reflex, really, to insult Newton without a second thought. “Er, thank you Mr. Choi, that’s… most informative of you.”

“Not a problem, Doctor. Now, how’s about I help find something to eat for yourself, and then pack up Newt’s dinner for him? I’m sure he’d be really happy with you for that.”

Hermann nodded. He followed Tendo around the kitchen for a while, lost in thoughts of this newly acquired information about Newton’s feelings toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also in love with BFF wingman Tendo, he's just so adorably charming and schmoozy at the same time. Also bowties *sigh*


	5. Falling Into Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! It all drew out forever, but I feel like it was worth it! Complete fluff, no smut, sorry!

Newton sat in his bed, reading an old kaiju manga he had from before K-day. He had changed out of his dirty work clothes and into just an old band t-shirt and boxers (which were printed with tiny Godzilla’s, some with fire coming out of their mouths and some holding cars and people). He heard a soft knock at the door, and figured it was probably Tendo coming to ask him to join him for another night of drinking. He leapt out from under the heavy wool blankets and opened the door without hesitation, a wild smile already on his face.

“Heya, Tend-- ah.“ Newton blushed suddenly as he stood face to face with a rather surprised looking Hermann in his door way. He remembered he was in his boxers and blushed slightly. “Sorry Hermann, I didn’t think it was you. I’ll uh, go put some pants on.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, I don’t mind.” Hermann stood rigid in the doorway, both hands still clutching the small white styrofoam container. He glanced quickly at Newton’s exposed skin, taking in the tattoos that wrapped around his legs and arms. In all honesty, he did care, quite a bit actually. Hermann was just enjoying stealing peeks of the parts of Newt he never got to see.

“Geez Hermann, see something you like?” Newt flopped back down on his bed, leaving the space open for Hermann to enter.

“Now why have I heard that before…” Hermann muttered under his breath as he entered the room, making himself comfortable in Newt’s old swivel office chair at his desk, which he first had to remove his inside-out skinny jeans from before sitting down. “I came to bring you dinner. I figured you’d need something proper to hold yourself over considering your… more erratic than usual sleeping and eating habits.” He held the box out, offering it for Newt to take.

“Oh, really? Wow, thanks a lot!” Newt hastily grabbed the box from Hermann’s hands, prying the lid open to reveal the spicy noodles inside. “Oh shit, this is my favourite! Awesome! How did you know?” Newton had already grabbed a discarded fork from his bedside table and begun shovelling mouthfuls into his face, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed and facing Hermann.

“A friend of ours told me you’d appreciate that.” Hermann watched him eat like a starving animal. “Perhaps it would be better if you slowed your pace down a bit.”

“No way, this stuff is the bomb!” Newton managed to say between slurps. “And it was Tendo, wasn’t it? He’s the best, he totally gets my taste in food.”

Hermann sat in silence, scanning over the mess that cluttered Newton’s desk. There was a line up of small, multi-coloured kaiju figurines lining the back of the desk and circling around the base of the office lamp he kept. There was a large stack of books that ranged from a book on aquatic creature anatomy to Kaiju no Komodo, as well as several empty Chinese takeout boxes and a dirty mug. Hermann noticed a small black sketchbook under a scattered array of pens across the surface. 

“You draw, Newton?” Hermann asked as he picked up the book, although he was already somewhat aware of the answer. He’d seen Newt’s scribbles and doodles all over the back of his notes and sometimes on Hermann’s chalkboards.

“Yeah, ‘course. I work out my tattoo ideas in there, and sometimes I just draw my favourite kaiju for fun.” Newton scraped up the last remaining portions of his dinner.

Hermann flipped through the pages briefly, admiring the artistry of Newt’s tattoo sketches and even the kaiju drawings. They were all detailed and colourful, all the lines drawn out carefully and smoothly. He flipped the page and found a drawing that stood out to him. 

“Is this… me…?” He asked hesitantly, staring at the small drawing in the corner of a page. It was a sketch of him, or his back rather, standing at his chalkboard working. 

Newton’s eyes went wide, his hands suddenly scrambling to reach out for the black book in Hermann’s hands. “Y-you don’t have to-- don’t-- it wasn’t--- It’s terrible!”

“It’s good.” Hermann stated, letting his voice fall back into it’s normal near monotone sound. “You’re quite, talented Newt.” He placed the book back on the desk, not wanting to make Newton anymore anxious than he already was.

“It’s not… I hope you don’t think that’s weird. I just… wanted to draw something, er, someone, that I saw frequently. Jot my life down or something like that…” Newt’s voice trailed off, his eyes settling to stare at his feet.

“Newt, you needn’t feel so embarrassed about your drawings, they’re--“

“I’m not embarrassed about my drawings, I’m embarrassed about… everything else.” Newton sighed into his hands.

“What do you mean ‘everything else’?” Hermann shifted in his seat.

“It’s… nothing. It’s stupid. I’m just…” Newt groaned and looked up at the ceiling momentarily. “I’m just tired, I guess. I’ll try to sleep like a normal person tonight.”

Hermann nodded, feeling that was his queue to leave. “Goodnight then, Newton. Try to not sleep in.”

“Uh huh, same to you buddy.” Newton removed his glasses, still sitting on the bed waiting for Hermann to leave.

His eyes were so bright, even when clouded with drowsiness. They were a vivid, rich shade of green and they almost looked like emeralds.

Why was Hermann comparing Newt’s eyes to gems?

* * *  


It was late, and Hermann was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He normally had no trouble falling asleep, but for some reason, tonight was different.

Yes, ‘for some reason’. As if he didn’t know what that ‘reason’ was. He thinks too hard about these things. Or not enough. Or not at all, really, until recently. He wonders when it started, when he really realized how enticed by Newt he was. He thought, maybe a year. Maybe two. It was sort of unclear, he had fought his own feelings so hard to remain ‘professional’, and had outright denied any sort of attraction on several occasions, which can’t have helped the matter really…

The matter being Newton apparently returning his feelings, of course.

Of course what? How was that even a given? Newton was spontaneous and energetic and charismatic, throwing smiles around like they meant nothing, except coming from him they always did mean something. He seemed to be comprised of nothing but never-ending tattoos, flipped-up hair, ridiculously out of date glasses, and tight jeans. And green eyes.

Oh, those green eyes.

And oh, would you stop it Hermann, you’re not a romance poet you’re a mathematician and you’ve got to stop dawdling over your lab mate like some sort of underage school boy.

No, that was really all it took. Hermann knew it now, and he could feel it in his ever-so tightening heart. He loved Newt. He loved every fibre of his perfect and flawed being. Every glowing smile and every haughty insult. Everything. He loved him.

Hermann sighed loudly at himself, finally allowing the thoughts that had been building up for the past… well, to long to remember, finally make themselves clear. There was no point in denying it anymore anyway. 

He still had to sleep, however, so he settled on doing differential calculus in his head, imagining his chalkboard behind his eyelids, finally lulling his racing heartbeat to a normal rhythm, and finally falling asleep.

* * *

Hermann had decided to keep his (not-so) new-found feelings for Newt secret for a while, or at least until he could think of a good way to tell him.

Maybe he was just waiting for something else to force him into it.

Either way, both Newt and Hermann worked a semi-normal day together, with slightly more silence than usual.  
Newt was just working on something particularly engrossing, Hermann told himself.

* * *

At precisely 10:41 PM, Hermann was startled while reading by the sound of someone hammering on his door. He closes his book, rising to a slow stand and quickly glancing in the small mirror to brush back a stray piece of dark hair. He had a feeling he knew who it was, and is grip on his cane tightened.

Opening the door revealed a frazzled and very uneasy looking Newt (he was right). He stood there for a moment, his (green…) eyes darting from Hermann’s face to his shoes, to his hands, back to Hermann’s face. He finally opened his mouth to speak, his hands flying up to rub at his own shoulders awkwardly.

“H-Hermann, look, you-- Last night, when we were talking, and I-- I made you those… Tendo probably said something didn’t he.” 

“Yes… something. He most certainly said something to me.” Hermann’s face remained placid; almost subconsciously attempting to ease any sort of anxiety Newt was (oh so clearly) experiencing. “He said you made a disaster of the kitchen whilst baking those cupcakes.” Hermann laughed softly, his voice calm yet his cheeks turning red. He was imagining Newt in some sort of pink apron, covered in puffs of white flour.

“No way! Why would he say that? Dammit…” Newt’s hands fell back down to his sides, tugging awkwardly at the fabric of his jeans. “No, I just… I wanted to say stuff last night and I couldn’t--”

“Newton… Perhaps you should come inside, you seem flustered.” Hermann moved aside, making way for Newt’s haphazard entrance as he practically flung himself into Hermann’s armchair. 

His legs bounced, no, vibrated nervously, his hands seeming to be searching for something to grab or fiddle with. “Look, I’ll just say it, alright, cause like, if I don’t, it’ll just eat me up and bother me all fuckin’ day, or week, or however long, ‘cause you know how terrible I am at ‘articulating myself’, and I just…”

“Newton, I-I love you.” Hermann finally said it. He said it. He was shaking slightly, his grip on his cane white-knuckled like a vice and his voice quavering slightly, but he said it.

“… can’t seem to-- Wait WHAT?” Newt’s practically exploded, leaping out of the chair. "Y-you just said that. You mean that? You said that though, for real?” His eyes met Hermann’s and he just about died on the spot. The way Newt looked at him was astounding, like he was the treasure he had been searching for on a long journey.

“Ah, yes…” Hermann felt his mouth going dry, the nervousness overwhelming him. What was he so damn scared of?

“Fuckin’… YES. Alright! I mean, I love you, too…” Newt stumbled to collect himself, his joy seeming to vibrate out of his body. “Well, pretty sure I loved you first.”

And there was that stunning smile again.

Hermann just glared before grabbing Newt’s (ridiculously skinny and completely useless) tie and yanking him forward. “Hör auf zu plappern und küss mich.”

Newt did as he was told, not having any damn good reason to object to that. Their lips touched, at first almost still shy, but suddenly everything seemed to fit into place, and they both just melted. Hermann felt himself grasping at Newt’s shirt, his fingers digging into the collar and the soft warmth of his neck. Newt’s hands went straight to Hermann’s hips, pulling him closer into himself as he kissed him desperately.

When their lips parted, Hermann’s face was full of more colour than Newt had ever seen before.

“Ha… wow, um… You look good like that, dude.” Newt stared for a moment. “You have… really nice eyes. Am I allowed to say that now? ‘Cause you do.”

For the fourth and final time, Hermann found himself speechless. Newt, the one with the dazzling green emerald eyes that looked at him like he was something precious and special, thought his eyes were ‘nice’?

“So um, did you finish off those cupcakes?” Newt mumbled against the wool of Hermann’s itchy sweater vest.

Hermann smiled, his fingers reaching to tangle themselves in Newton’s mussed hair. “Not yet, I was saving one.”

“Saving it? For what? I can make you more, y’know.”

“For this. For… when I could finally bring myself to say it.”

“Like a reward or somethin’?”

“Something like that, yes I suppose.”

Newt looked up at Hermann (really, the height different was so cute it almost made Hermann sick at this point), his bright eyes piercing through his glasses. “I didn’t mean what I said before. About you not being sweet. ‘Cause you are.. You’re the sweetest thing I have.” 

Newt released Hermann finally, standing back to get a better look at Hermann’s adorably blushing face. “Jetzt hast du mich voll am Hals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really, really sorry the German bits are just Google translated! I don't speak any other languages, I just wanted to tie into their cute German-ness. Please correct me if you can and I'll fix it!
> 
> Hör auf zu plappern und küss mich = Quit your babbling and kiss me!  
> Jetzt hast du mich voll am Hals = You're totally stuck with me now.


End file.
